


This is not who I want you to see

by SolarMaga



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Background Grimmons, Canonical Character Death, M/M, Mentioned AI Program Epsilon | Leonard Church, Mentions of donald doyle, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Character Death, Pining, canon complaintish
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-09
Updated: 2019-10-08
Packaged: 2020-11-28 01:11:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20957987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SolarMaga/pseuds/SolarMaga
Summary: They say home is the place where your heart is. . . . but after everything that's happened Tucker isn't sure he has much of a heart anymore. Scars cover all of the Reds and Blues after all of their adventures. A lot of things have happened over the years, sometimes it feels like too many things have happened. The last 'adventure' on Chorus, the civil war, fighting Felix and Locus and taking down Hargrave. . . . it took its toll. Chorus took its toll on all of them and it seems like finally Tucker and rest will have down time. A chance to heal. Or at least, that's what Tucker had thought until a message from Church changes everything.It's the Shisno Paradox, only gayer. I have a lot of feelings about Season 17 okay?





	1. In my heart I belong in a house by the sea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I have a lot of feelings about Season 17 okay?
> 
> This story starts after season 13 and mostly follows canon only with Tucker being gay for Washington and everyone trying to deal with just how fucked up they are after all these long years of adventure.
> 
> The title and chapter title is from "House by the Sea" by Moddi

The last adventure of the Reds and Blues had been one giant, unintentional cluster fuck. At least, that's how Tucker chose to think about it. Even though he really just wanted to forget all about Chorus in the worst of ways.

Honestly, even though they weren’t in Blood Gulch anymore they were still the Reds and Blues. Most of the Reds and Blues had survived Chorus and it's civil war and backstabbing and mercenaries and space pirates and corporate plots. If there was one thing the Reds and Blues were good at Tucker liked to think it was surviving. They were like God damn cockroaches. Which was probably a good thing because even after the downfall of Project Freelancer the Reds and Blues still tended to stumble into all sorts of insane and dangerous situations. Only now they were _more_ dangerous because they weren't just running simulations used to train freelancers. Somehow they kept making it through though. Sure they often got their teeth kicked in and they'd lost people along the way but well, there were only so many times they could all survive.

The thought and accompanying memories took hold of Tucker’s heart and tried to crush it.

It all came back, O'Malley, the Meta, the Director, Chorus, Locus and Felix. The fucking deaths and sacrifices. . . . Simmons and Grif, one of them a cyborg, man and machine under his suit of armor, the other fixed up with parts of the other. Alpha, an A.I. made to be researched and turned into a weapon who was torn apart by _his own creator_ in the name of **what**? Tex, just the shadow of a woman who had died before Tucker actually met her. Carolina, forced to compete against the A.I. shade of her own mother. Only to come in second place: second place on the scoreboard, second place in her father's affections. The freelancers and their A.I. fragments and everything they went through. General Donald Doyle the bravest coward ever, saying goodbye before blowing himself and a nuclearly ractor up so everyone else had a fighting chance. Epsilon who became Church, _became a person_ as far as Tucker was concerned. Epsilon who tore himself apart and fragmented himself just to save all of them. 

Sometimes Tucker isn’t sure if it was worth it.

Isn't sure _he_ specially is worth it.

They’d all lost so much, so _fucking_ much. **Why**? Just because the director couldn’t let Allison go. One choice that affected all of them to their cores. Would Chorus have happened without Project Freelancer as a catalyst? Would any of them been hurt without Project Freelancer? Who knew.

Sometimes Tucker wants to not be alive just so he can forget it all. Then he apologies to the dead and goes off to find Caboose because it's hard to be melancholy around the big blue idiot. 

* * *

Out of everyone Grif, surprising no one, adjusted to retirement the best. Caboose, well it was hard to say with Caboose. But he seemed to be no better or worse for everything that had happened.

Carolina and Sarge were having a fuck of a time with retirement, Tucker mostly ended up leaving them to the Reds. Sarge was dragging the Reds into a new ‘war’ every week and Grif kept trying to teach Carolina to relax without result.

Tucker put all of that on a list named ‘_Not His Fucking Problem_’.

Because it wasn’t. Sarge was a Red, and even if Tucker gave a shit it didn’t mean that he had to get involved. Carolina? She was Wash’s friend, and she was weirdly entwined with Church -_Tucker preferred not to think about it_\- but well, Grif was trying to help her already. So unless they needed his help Tucker was happy to leave Carolina and her high stung problems to Grif.

He had his own problems after all.

Well mostly two root problems: Church and Wash. Fuck it sounded gay when Tucker said it like that.

It was a little gay.

First was Church; he was. . . . he was _gone_. For good this time too, at least, as far as anyone could tell. Fuck did that one hurt. 

Since the beginning, Tucker had had Church by his side. They’d been together since Blood Gulch, side by side for so many dumb quests and stupid adventures. . . . but they hadn’t been together. Not since Church and Carolina started their hunt for the director, not really. They’d been friends, best friends. But they grew apart. . . . sort of? It was weird. Tucker kept forgetting that Church, his Church, was long gone and Epsilon had just slipped into his place. There hadn’t been much time for Tucker to consider and reflect on the whole Church/ Epsilon thing before everything went to predictable shit. There’d been one adventure after another. And Epsilon had slipped into Church’s role on Blue Team. After all, he had Church’s memories, he was Church in so many ways but he wasn’t in just as many. Now he was gone, they both were. After everything Church had died and Epsilon had shattered himself into quickly fading fragments.

Tucker was still trying to work his way through that one.

Then there was Washington. That was were the gay part might fit. Tucker still wasn’t totally sure about that. He just knew that somewhere along the line Washington went from 'random adopted stray Freelancer' to 'Most Important Person on This Dumb Rock'.

Sure he and Church had teased before, ages ago back in Blood Gulch. Once Church had said “_If people don’t think we’re at least a little gay for eachother are we really friends_?” Tucker had replied with “_What fucking people? It’s just us, Flowers, and the Reds!_” That had been the last calm day before Caboose showed up. Before a lot of things really; too many things.

Either way, Tucker had always cared about Wash, ever since they’d stuffed the man in Churchs old armor and taken him home with them. Like some lost, abandoned street dog that Caboose had become attached to. Actually, that’s almost** exactly** what had happened. Wash was some sort of dangerous trained attack dog that Project Freelancer had abandoned on the side of a burning road and Caboose had grown attached so Tucker had let his dumbass teammate take severely damaged and dangerous super soldier home. Great fucking plan right?

Well somewhere along the line Tucker had grown attached too.

He just, he wasn’t sure how attached he was anymore. More than he wanted to be for sure. Washington was a danger magnet; Cars seemed to have a personal vendetta against him and the former Freelancer seemed have a flare for self sacrifice. Which to Tucker mean that giving a shit would _hurt_. Lately he felt more attached to Wash than anyone else too. Because Tucker had the worst taste in friends. Was it just because Church was gone? Did Tucker just feel the subconscious need to replace one self sacrificing dumbass with another even more self sacrificing dumbass?

Sometimes it felt like it was deeper.

Tucker was afraid of how deep it went so he avoided thinking about it.

Tucker needed to not think about a lot of things:

Project Freelance. . . .

Church. . . .

Chorus. . . .

Washington. . . .

Freckles the friendly assault rifle. . . .

Jesus Tucker needed to start saying no when Caboose brought home dangerous new pets. Even if he liked some of them.

* * *

Groaning Tucker rolled over and right out of bed. He’d been up for hours already thinking and thinking. Turning the past several years over in his head was like playing with broken bits of glass; all he did was hurt himself.

Washing off his face with cold water in the bathroom Tucker decided he needed distractions today. Retirement suited Tucker about as well as it suited the rest of the Reds and Blues. Sometimes he felt like Sarge, just itching for something to fight, sometimes he felt like Grif, perfectly happy to nap and lazy the days away.

Today Tucker felt like, well, he felt bruised and cut up. It felt like the past had come by in the dead of night and kicked the _shit_ out of his head and heart with the ghosts of everyone he ever knew. 

It wasn’t fun. 

In just old grey sweatpants and a teal tank top Tucker went down to the kitchen of ‘Blue Base’. Sarge refused to call the buildings everyone called home anything else and well, it felt odd to call them anything else too. 

Upstairs Caboose was still snoring but in the kitchen Wash was quietly eating at the table, his armor on and his helmet on the table beside him.

Tucker raised a brow, “Are you fucking serious?” Tucker asked shaking his head at the blond man. They’d been on the rock for months, most of the really dangerous things were dead or avoiding them. Anything dangerous and close enough Sarge declared war on. The Red and Blue 'Bases' were avoided by most fauna now because of Sarge.

Yet here was Wash, eating his breakfast in full armor before who the fuck knew what time it was, the sun wasn’t even fully up. It was first thing in the fucking morning and Wash was already fully armored. Probably armed too. 

After the first few months Tucker had imposed a very strict ‘**No carrying weapons in the base**’ rule. The place was pretty safe by then. Sarge had already won his ‘war’ against the dinosaurs. Mostly the no weapons rule was meant to keep Caboose from walking around the base with guns team killing everyone. Somehow though Tucker kept finding knives and such in Wash’s bedroom and hidden all over the base and  _ not _ in the hall closet where they fucking belonged. 

Wash blushed and focused on his breakfast of toast and eggs.

“You know,” Tucker began, throwing some bread in the toaster and looking for the crunchy peanut butter and a knife, “if you’ve forgotten how to take off your armor I _could_ help you out.” He offered giving Wash a mostly innocent smile.

Predictably Wash choked on his mouthful of eggs.

Snickering Tucker patted the older man on the back. “Oh you’re too easy,” he teased with fond smile.

Coughing Wash ran a hand through his short blond hair, somehow Washington was already starting to go a bit grey on the sides. It wasn’t like he wasn’t  _ that _ old, older sure, but there was no way Wash should be old enough to go grey. As if the two scars on his face weren’t enough stress was taking the mans blond hair too.

“I know how to take my armor off,” Washington replied looking stubborn. 

“I don’t believe you,” Tucker shot back, crossing his arms over his chest he leaned one hip against the kitchen counter. “Maybe you should take it off now, just to prove to me that you can.” The dark skinned man suggested casually.

Wash blushed ever brighter, “I don’t have to get naked just to prove I can take my armor off.”

Tucker gave a scandalized gasp, “Now Agent Washington, I was  _ not _ suggesting you strip in the kitchen. I was merely questioning your ability to take your armor off.” He finished with a cocky smirk, flick some of his long dark box braids back over his shoulder.

Ignoring Tucker Washington kept his eyes on his food and stuffed his face. “I’m going on patrol,” he bit out eventually. 

“You do know we aren’t  _ really _ at war no matter what Sarge says, right?” Tucker asked, mostly joking. In all honestly the former Freelancers were a  _ pretty _ high strung pair. Even with the ‘**No carrying weapons in the base**’ rule Tucker knew for a _fact_ that both Carolina and Wash had knives under their pillows.

“Yes Tucker, I am well aware that we aren’t actually at war with gravity, or the toaster oven, or fruit flies. I’m just. . . .” Wash trailed off, his brow furrowed. “I just feel like something’s coming.”

“I think that’s the PTSD, but,” Tucker shrugged, he grabbed his toast and began slathering it with peanut butter, “if it makes you feel better go for it.” 

Wash gave Tucker a slight smile, “It’s probably the PTSD,” he agreed.

“Probably,” Tucker agreed with a nod as he bit into toast with peanut butter.

For a while the two stayed like that, Wash at the table, Tucker leaning against the kitchen counter. Just eating in silence. It was strangely comfortable. Then Wash finished eating, stood up and cleaned off his dishes as well as the knife Tucker had used.

“You know, I can never tell if you’re joking or not when you flirt like that,” Wash admitted with a huff and a slight blush as he cleaned up after breakfast. 

Tucker just shrugged, sometimes he wasn’t even sure if he was joking or not.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time is an ocean or a circle, depends on who you ask. But for a moment were going to circle back.

The first time Tucker thought he’d lost Washington for good after everything had been hard. Sure there had been close calls with the Meta and everything but well, they weren’t very close at that point were they? 

Actually Washington had had so many close calls that Tucker started numbering them for before and after he gave a shit about Wash. The first ‘_Real_’ time he thought he’d lost Wash, that had been the worst. . . .

Crashed on an unknown planet, Church and Carolina missing, the sound of gun fire, the smell of something burning, and Washington. He just. . . . went down and something in Tucker’s heart broke watching that. 

There wasn’t time then, Tucker didn’t have the space to think, to realize just what the feeling meant. They were there and shoved back for later only to be forgotten in the wake of everything that happened. They were still under fire, the air smelled of smoke and sweat and blood, even through a helmet. Felix was saying they had to go, shouting really, people were going down, ground was being lost by inches and feet. 

The Reds and Blues were losing.

The world spun, people kept shooting and alleged rebels were herding the Reds and Blues into a tunnel. They were getting split up and pushed back, they were losing.

Tucker grabbed Simmons by the arm as the maroon soldier went by, “Wait, where’s Wash?” Tucker asked worry hidden by his helmet. 

“He’s still at the base!” Simmons replied clearly panicked before hurrying on. Probably to look for Grif.

“Wait, what?” Turning back to the tunnel entrance Tucker’s eyes scanned over the base. It was being over run by the enemy. And somewhere in that mess of gun fire and actual fire was Washington. But where? Felix ran by, Tucker ignored the grey and orange armored man as he went past with a few other rebels yelling about needing to close the tunnel.

They had to leave damnit, Tucker knew they had to leave, but he couldn’t, not yet, not without Washington. Church and Carolina were still missing, had been since the crash. Tucker wasn’t about to lose Wash too damnit! He already felt like he’d left too many people behind.

Then movement, standing up from behind some crates was the clearly visible grey and yellow of Wash. “Wait guys, there he is!” Tucker yelled, relieved to see the older man standing even though he was clearly hurt. “Wash! Wash, come on!” Tucker yelled waving the former freelancer over.

“We’ve gotta seal this tunnel!” Someone else yelled, Tucker wasn’t sure who, one of the rebels, probably Felix; He was loud.

There was a beat, Wash looked at Tucker, then at the rebel shot down just feet from him. Tucker _knew_, he wasn’t sure how but he just _knew _as Washington looked around, between the rebels, the federal army, and the tunnel Tucker _knew_ his leader was about to do something stupid. Heroic, but stupid.

Washington looked up at freckles, from the tunnel Tucker couldn’t hear what the older man said over the gun fire and shouting but he could guess.

Freckles ‘shook’ and so did ground. 

“Wai-ait! No! _What_ are you **doing**?!” Tucker screamed, his voice shattering on the first word.

The world shook, rocks came down, and Wash, Wash was on the other side! It was _wrong_, everything was _wrong_. Tucker took a step forward, he couldn’t just leave Washington behind, not now, not after everything.

One step, and Tucker’s world went back as something hit him in the back of the head. The last thing he saw was a grey and orange blur.

* * *

That was it. The remaining Reds and Blues were drawn into a civil war. Everything went to shit, there was no time for much of anything. Washington was gone and Tucker couldn’t bear to think about it, about any of it. He had one thing to worry about: Caboose. And later? Getting Wash back. Sure he worried about Church and Carolina but those fuckers had left them and Tucker had more pressing worries. Like keeping Caboose alive, getting Wash back, and _ maybe _ worrying about Simmons and Grif when he had the time.

The Reds really weren’t all that bad and they were all in the same boat.

Chorus, a shitty forgotten planet. Tucker could understand why it was forgotten, but still Chorus was home to a lot of people and they needed help. Tucker just didn’t have it in him at first to care. There was too much, Washington, Church, Carolina, Caboose, the Reds, they mattered and they were scattered and until everyone was together again Tucker couldn’t give a shit about Chorus. 

As far as Tucker was concerned Chorus was the source of his current problems. Well Chorus, _and_ the dumb civil war of it’s inhabitants.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyways that all for now, give kudos, favorite, comment, bookmark, review, follow, I don't know but if you liked it let me know because I survive off of attention.


End file.
